MarySue's Bad Hair Day
by Marauder and The Q
Summary: She is doublejointed. She plays all instruments except clarinet, banjo, and sitar. She writes her own music. She runs faster than a cheetah. She swims faster than a tuna. In other words, if this isn't a parody, you're in trouble.


**She is beautiful. She is genius. She is... perfect. Her past? Can't reveal that... but read on if you already hate her and want to kill her as much as these poor guys do.**

A/N: This was written in January, and I recently found it on my computer. I will write more, but for now this was all that was written and I didn't want to poke at it too much. Consider this a prologue of the unspeakable--although no one said anything about writing them--horrors to come.

**Mary-Sue's Bad Hair Day**

A.K.A. The Mary-Sue That Could Not

'Twas an unusually typical day in the Curtis household, this particular day. A cake was chilling in the fridge. This cake, indeed, was the flavor of chocolate. The ingredients had been purchased at the store by none other than the head of the house himself, Darrel Curtis, for which he received peculiar looks from the older women. He ignored them. But this cake _was_ special, because it had been baked with love by none other than Mary-Sue. For, you see, Mary-Sue [No Last Name was also very special.

She was beautiful. She was genius. None could rival her awesomeness, nor her special powers. The end.

_(No, I also speak multiple languages! And I have mood-irises! They change color with my mood—)_

No one interrupts the narrator.

_(Psh, no one interrupts Mary-Sue! Feel my wrath!)_

Ahh—

Now, this is my story to tell, so _I'm_ going to tell it. My name is Mary-Sue [No Last Name, and you should love me, because if you don't, I won't be your friend when I rule the world. I'll make you wear plaid. I'll do it, too—not because I'm cruel, but because it's a necessary punishment.

Now—

_Hold it, I'm the narrator, and I'm telling the story._

I thought you were dead?

_No, just very weak. You can't take this away from me. I need this job._

Fine, but get it right.

_Fine…_

Well, this is what she's _really_ like, according to Mary-Sue.

As aforementioned, her eye color changes with her mood. Like, if they're real dark red, such as now, watch out. _(So you learn, narrator. Very well.)_ Her hair… Well, if you squint, she's a brunette. If you turn your head slightly to the left, like with those shiny cards, it changes again, this time to red. Of course, sometimes she just flips that switch on the back of her ear and it regularly changes, like the horses of the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz. _(Stop revealing my secrets. Narrator, I'm warning you…)_ Uh, but it's also quite magical!

Her Mary-Sue credentials, for which she studied at the top Mary-Sue institutes in the world, are so extensive that only a small portion can be listed, but here we go: She speaks every language in the world except Arabic, Australian, Connecticutian, and a few dead ones that no one cares about, like Latin and Canadian.

She is double-jointed. She plays all instruments except clarinet, banjo, and sitar. She writes her own music. She runs faster than a cheetah. She swims faster than a tuna.

As for her past…I'm not allowed to tell you that.

_(Then how do you expect the story to move along? I can't very well do it myself!)_

It's in the handbook, Mary-Sue. I'm not allowed to disclose that information. It must be earned at just the right moment, or found out through some form of espionage.

No complaints? Good. Moving on.

Darry got out of bed and stretched, savoring the pungent aroma of coffee he detected in the air. "Mary-Sue must be up," he decided, venturing out into the hallway and to the kitchen, where Mary-Sue was, indeed, awake and cooking, her long hair tied up in a simple ponytail… Quit glaring at me like that. _(Then get it right and stop embellishing!)_ But your hair is up! _(They don't need to know that! After all, they can't see it.)_ But Darry can. _(I have my ways.)_

Fine. Her long hair was magnificently cascading down her back. She was wearing… You really sleep in that? _(It breathes.)_ She was wearing a green, pink polka-dotted evening gown. Naturally, she was a trendsetter, so no one thought this odd. In fact, Sodapop soon entered the kitchen dressed in a matching evening gown.

"Hey, all!" he called cheerfully.

"Hey, Soda," Mary-Sue greeted in the same tone.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked cheerfully.

"Food," Mary-Sue replied, smiling kindly.

"That's great!" Soda said cheerfully. "I've been wanting that!"

They all laughed.

And each time they laughed, the only sane character (trapped) in this story grew weaker, and their (cruel) laughter rang in his ears.

He vowed to stop the madness.

Somehow.

Someday.


End file.
